


offer sheet

by youcouldmakealife



Series: between the teeth [36]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6498043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Panthers make the playoffs for the first time in almost a decade, and David would congratulate Jake, but he hasn’t talked to him all season, so he doubts Jake would respond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	offer sheet

The Islanders’ season is finished in April.

David hadn’t expected to win the Stanley Cup a year after an early first round exit, but not making the playoffs yet again leaves a bad taste in his mouth. In the fans’ mouthes too, which they’re vocal about, and he can’t blame them for that. 

“Are you disappointed?” he’s asked by a reporter, a day after the regular season is finished. A day more than half of the league is gearing up for playoffs, and he’s cleaning out his locker. He’s not even sure how he’s supposed to answer that.

“Of course I am,” he says.

Of course he is.

The Panthers make the playoffs for the first time in almost a decade, and David would congratulate Jake, but he hasn’t talked to him all season, so he doubts Jake would respond.

*

The last game they played against the Panthers, David didn’t see Jake at all. He hadn’t seen him off the ice during any of them, but in this case Jake was a game time decision after an awkward check the game before, and the decision, in the end, was not to play him. David considered sending a text wishing Jake a speedy recovery, but in the end he hadn’t. 

It was close enough to the end of the season that David, the Islanders, knew that the likelihood of them making the playoffs was vanishingly small. The Panthers were standing on the cusp, and the Islanders’ job was to play spoiler. 

The Panthers won the game in the end, 4-2, because the Islanders couldn’t even do that right.

“Hey,” Forster said to David after the game. David ran into him near the exit, not outside the visitors’ room, so David still doesn’t know if Forster running into him was a coincidence or purposeful. “You played good this season.”

David made a face, he’s sure. They’re expressive, according to Kiro, who always mentions them, and Forster laughed, so David assumes it’s more likely that he made a face than that Forster laughed at nothing.

“Okay, not another Art Ross,” Forster said, “but you can’t win them every year, you’d give us all a complex. Especially if you keep giving speeches like that.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” David said.

“Okay,” Forster said. “Anyway, good to see you.”

“You too,” David said.

“Don’t do that again,” Forster said. 

“Pardon?” David asked.

“Don’t do that again,” Forster said. “Don’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it.”

“Like — you too?” David asked, frowning.

“You know what I mean,” Forster said.

“I don’t, I’m sorry,” David said.

Forster frowned at him. “Don’t — don’t go back and forth on him like that,” he said. “It fucks him up.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t—” David started.

“Don’t break his fucking heart again,” Forster said.

“Pardon me?” David asked.

“You heard me,” Forster said, and David had, but that really wasn’t the point.

It was none of Forster’s business. David could have — should have — said that, but Forster was looking out for a friend. David could imagine Kiro standing in his place, because it was the sort of thing he’d do. So instead, he was honest.

“I haven’t talked to Jake all season,” David said. “He’s clearly over me, so.”

Forster laughed, then. “Okay,” he said. “Same as always, I guess. Good talk.”

David had turned that statement over and over in his head that night, but no matter how many times he did, he couldn’t get it to make sense.

It still doesn’t.

*

David’s contract is up at the end of the season, and once again he can’t get a figure he wants from management. Contract talks are cutting into his training, wasting his time, because the Islanders don’t want to pay him what he’d easily make on the open market. In an article an ‘unnamed source in the Islanders organization’ says he’s being ‘difficult’.

“Fuck them,” Dave says. “They pay you what you deserve or they don’t get you.”

The Islanders made some big trades before the deadline, took some heavy cap loads, hoping — and failing to convert on that hope — that those trades would lead them to the playoffs again. They’re close to the salary cap even before signing David, Oleg, and it doesn’t take a mathematics genius to realise that they can afford to keep Oleg, up for free-agency, or David, facing restricted free-agency, but they can’t keep both of them.

There were articles about it, after the deadline, reporters able to count to the same number David can, discussing who should stay. Once the offseason started and there was no actual Islanders hockey to discuss, the articles multiplied. General consensus is that Oleg’s past his prime, would cost too much, that David would be the better option in the long term. 

Oleg’s been with the Islanders his entire career, captained them for half of it. 

“There’s no such thing as loyalty anymore,” David says to Dave, before another meeting with Islanders’ management, lawyers.

Dave sighs. “Do I have to tell you to stop reading stupid shit on the internet?” Dave asks.

“It was on a reputable site,” David argues. “I wasn’t reading just anything.”

“It’s still stupid shit,” Dave says. “It’s always stupid shit.”

The meeting feels like a waste of time. They’re still arguing about the same points they were arguing about last meeting, and every concession the Islanders offer is small, insubstantial. David’s frustrated when they walk out, no closer to making a deal, the Islanders management angry at David and no longer trying to hide it.

“We’re going to grab a bite to eat,” Dave tells him when they’re walking out. 

“I’m not really hungry,” David says.

“Then I’m going to grab a bite to eat and you’re going to sit across from me and stare,” Dave says. “Let’s go.”

Dave orders a steak. Dave always orders a steak when they go to restaurants. In that way he acts more like a hockey player than David does. David really isn’t hungry, but he should eat, and he doesn’t particularly want to sit across and stare either, so he orders a wrap, figures he can take half home.

“I’m going to ask you a question,” Dave says, after the food’s arrived.

“Okay,” David says.

“Do you actually want to keep playing for the Islanders?” Dave asks. David opens his mouth. “Before you answer, I need you to know that the longer this drags out, the less leverage we have, and the more likely it is that you’ll be sealing a shitty deal and we’ll be sitting across from those same guys a year or two from now, trying, again, to get you what you’re worth, because they think they deserve some kind of draft discount. The second free agency hits you’re out of options, because no one you want to take you will have the money to outbid the Isles.”

David’s quiet. “Can I think about it?” David asks, after a moment.

“The fact you haven’t freaks me the fuck out,” Dave says. “I’m giving you until tomorrow morning. Tomorrow afternoon I’m walking into that office and I’m nailing down a longterm, good money deal, or I’m walking into that office and telling them that we’re going to see if someone else will pay you what you’re worth and they can match it if they’re so fucking intent on keeping you, but either way, I’m telling them something. Okay?”

“Okay,” David says. 

*

David calls Oleg when he gets home after the meal. He feels uncomfortable about it, but he feels more uncomfortable making a decision without talking to him first, especially because David’s decision would likely directly impact Oleg’s own contract negotiations.

“Are you psychic?” Oleg asks when he picks up.

“Pardon?” David asks.

“I was about to call you,” Oleg says.

“Really?” David asks. “Why?”

Oleg laughs. “I need a reason to call?” he asks.

“Yes,” David says, and Oleg laughs again.

“Okay,” he says. “True.”

“What’s up?” David asks.

“I’m not staying with the Islanders,” Oleg says. “I wanted to tell you first. Before it is official. Tomorrow I let them know.”

David’s quiet. “If it’s the money—” he starts, doesn’t know how to finish. Whether he should apologise.

“I want a Cup before I retire,” Oleg says. “I have better options.”

“Where are you going?” David asks. 

“I have a few unofficial offers,” Oleg says. 

“Where are you going?” David repeats, because Oleg wouldn’t have called him if it was still a hypothetical.

“The Capitals,” Oleg says.

Washington made it to the Eastern Conference Finals this year, would probably have made it further if they weren’t as injured as they were. They have a number of expiring contracts, more than enough cap space to pay Oleg what he deserves. It’s a good choice.

“They’re a good team,” David says.

“Yes,” Oleg says. 

“That’s — congratulations?” David says.

“Thank you,” Oleg says. “You called me. About your contract?”

“My agent told me I have to decide if I want to stay with the Islanders by tomorrow,” David says. “I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Well,” Oleg says. “If they are not trying for both of us, they can afford you.”

“Yeah,” David says.

“Chapman?” Oleg says. “David?”

“Yeah?” David asks.

“Do you want to stay with the Islanders?” Oleg asks.

David almost says ‘I don’t know’ again, reflexive, but stops, thinks about it. “Not really,” he says, finally. “I’m tired of—” he stops.

“Losing?” Oleg asks.

“Yeah,” David says. “And we’d only be worse without you. I don’t know who they’re going to make captain, there aren’t really any —”

“David,” Oleg interrupts.

“Sorry,” David says. “I know they’re your As.”

“No, not that,” Oleg says. “Go play somewhere you want to.”

“Like it’s that easy,” David says.

“It is,” Oleg says. “It is that easy.”

“You’re unrestricted, I’m not,” David says.

“The Islanders cannot afford to pay you what you deserve, and we both know it,” Oleg says. “They will not be able to match the offer sheet.”

“I’d look like an asshole,” David says.

“You would prefer to play for a team you do not like?” Oleg asks.

“I never said—” David starts.

“I _know_ you,” Oleg says. “I might be the only one you like. And Slava, maybe.”

“And you’re leaving,” David says.

“Yes,” Oleg says. “So. Where do you want to play?”

“I don’t know,” David says, which is true, then, “not here,” which is also true.

“Okay,” Oleg says. “See? Easy.”

“Not really,” David says. “But thanks.”

“Any time,” Oleg says.

“Shit,” David says. 

“What?” Oleg asks.

“The Islanders are going to have a really bad day tomorrow,” David says, and smiles when Oleg starts to laugh.

*

He could call Dave after he gets off the phone with Oleg, but he thinks it might be better to sleep on it. You’re supposed to do that with big decisions, and this is a pretty important one. First he looks into where the teams he would want to go are sitting, cap wise. He’d been paying attention to that, but this time he studies it.

A lot of the teams he would want to go to wouldn’t be able to afford him, unsurprisingly, since the reason they’re good is that they’re spending every cent available. But Dave’s right — making it known he’s available needs to be done before free agent frenzy, because some of the teams are pressed right up against the cap, but won’t be as soon as certain contracts expire. After the research something in him settles, knowing it’s possible, that it wouldn’t just be a gambit that the Islanders management could match, resent him for.

He doesn’t feel any differently when he wakes up the next morning, and he calls Dave before he’s even eaten breakfast.

“Verdict?” Dave asks, instead of saying hello.

“I want you to see who wants me,” David asks.

“They all want you,” Dave says. “It’s who can afford you.”

“Okay,” David says. “Find out who will pay more than the Islanders.”

“Gotcha,” Dave says. “Any preferences?”

“I want to stay in the East if possible,” David says, then, after a moment, “Dave?”

“Yeah?” Dave asks.

“Can you see if the Capitals can?” David asks. “I know they’ve got a lot of contracts expiring this summer, so they might be able to afford it if they don’t renew some of them before the deadline.”

Dave’s quiet for a moment. “Sure thing,” he says. “Why the Caps?”

“Loyalty,” David says. 

“I don’t understand a single thing about you,” Dave says, but not meanly. 

“Me either,” David says. “But that’s okay.”


End file.
